


Storm's Eye

by ripplegrin



Category: Magic: The Gathering
Genre: Ravnica, Sad Backstory, blood there's blood, cute stuff, evil but soft, god i'm dark sometimes, torture?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-10-07 22:10:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17374160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ripplegrin/pseuds/ripplegrin
Summary: Meiyo thinks about how slow their life is on ravnica while another walker sparks after almost dying under the sight of her parents.





	Storm's Eye

A quiet day never goes without an experiment. Each day, one occurs, and it always goes the same. She gets strapped in; her parents say something to the tune of: “It’ll be okay, honey! This won’t hurt at all, I promise!” All with predatory smiles and eyes that betray their words. The pain was taken with a smile. She wanted to make them proud, after all. Countless experiments that melted into months took its toll on her and lightning can only strike so many times. Especially when it breaks past all the clouds and crashes through thoughts.

  
“Annoying.” Meiyo spoke matter-of-factly to the blood coated alleyway they were in. Several pristine corpses were crumpled to the sides of the path like forgotten rag dolls. The rain became an accomplice to the murders, letting the remaining evidence drain away. Their remaining blades were given a quick rinse before returning to a hidden pocket. The assassin’s footsteps were drowned out by the sound of rain and thunder.

  
“No reason to turn in today. Rain probably scared away the commissioner.” They thought as they scurried from the awning to covering to stray table. They quickly grabbed a small bag of rice from a merchant, who was rushing to save her remaining produce, leaving coin in its place. A few more motions of dodging the occasional crowd member and avoiding those who don’t mind fighting in a rainstorm led to an unremarkable stone building. There were several small cobwebbed windows, two-day old markings from a Rakdos revel and a heavy iron door. Unlike most of the neighboring buildings, it was only a single floor or at least, had no clear way to get to the upper floors. Meiyo fiddled with a small belt pouch and pulled out a key. The door creaked open to let the stale air of the house waft outside.

  
The small hall that led to the rest of the home was dotted with the occasional dust bunny and spider web, each doing their best to survive. Light awkwardly crept in from a slightly chipped window and the doorway, slowly being quelled as it closed. The scent of mothballs mixed with wet clothes provided a terrible perfume to the place. At times like this, it was a blessing to have the choice to not make a nose. The wooden planks that made up the floor creaked when too much pressure was put on them. The first footsteps went to the only furnished room. Furnished is a strong word. The room had a queen-sized bed, a pile of books that functioned as a nightstand and a malnourished closet. Weapons and damaged armor were tossed atop the sheets like how one would drop off groceries. Footsteps returned to the main room then towards a comparatively clean corner with several iron pots, a cracked, slightly wet, fireplace, and a larger than expected icebox. The remainder of the floor plan was closer to that of a long-forgotten warehouse rather than a person’s home. A pot was quickly placed over the fireplace and filled with water. They began adding rice to the water as it boiled. Rain continued to pitter patter against the walls and windows as they worked. Lightning lit up the street and provided crescendos to the ambiance of the day. One bolt came within a mile of the home and the room became filled with the stark light from it. A shriek followed suit. Not from outside the building however. That would have been ignored.

  
Across the large room, that made up the living/dining/ kitchen room, sat a woman, wrapping around a massive axe, shrinking back into a corner, while she was rocking back and forth. Meiyo’s eyes darted to her while their skin darted to a more mottled color. Eyes surveyed her like an appraiser. She’s not wet and the window behind her is not broken so, she probably wasn’t outside recently. The axe was thrumming with some form of magic. Jolts of electricity bounced between her skin and the blade of her weapon. It seems that keeping a distance between her would be the smart choice. The scent of slightly burnt hair came from her rather than an earthly or wet one. Her trembling and pleading eyes mean she isn’t in a great mental state. Her clothing seems to be from a different plane but honestly, with all the guilds and possible walkers around, Ravnica is a melting pot of multiple planes.

Two possible thoughts ran through Meiyo’s mind. The first was that this person was a planeswalker who had the unfortunate situation of planeswalking into the house of an assassin or it is a ghost that died in the storm. She could have died anywhere. Ravnica is strange with spirits. Meiyo was told planeswalkers are nearly one in a million, so the second seems more logical. They turned back to the pot, awaiting their rice. Can’t kill ghosts and it’s better to just let them be. Time went on, rice balls were made, and the supposed ghost stayed alert, albeit silent. She jolted towards the axe as Meiyo walked across the room to their quarters.

  
“If the ghost stays the night, that can be a problem for my future self to deal with.” Meiyo thought as they tossed the mini armory from their bed to the closet’s floor. Cleaning up can also be left to their future self as well. Their sleep was interrupted multiple times by lightning strikes followed by bloodcurdling screams from their living room, for lack of a better term. Wonderful.

  
The morning after was standard, sans the new guest. Move the weaponry from the floor to their assigned locations, make sure there are no stains on the current clothing and make sure your mask is on right. The rain died out and the scent of the house was a mix of rancid dust and fresh dew imbued air. The guest hardly moved through the night and the fearful hate in her eyes continued. Meiyo went through their extremely vast and shallow memories about targets but came up with nothing. The ghost idea seemed to be slipping away but being the great procrastinating we all aspire to be, they decided to leave the problem to future Meiyo yet again. Meiyo pulled out a small plate, placed a single rice ball on it a few feet before her and began to speak.

  
“I doubt you are dead, but you will be if you don’t eat. If you choose not to, at least don’t let any rats or creatures eat it. I hate pests.” She tilted her head and stared at Meiyo as they slipped out of the front door, locking it as they walked away.

  
The sun returned after that freakish storm and people returned to muddling around merchants and the more populous walkways. Meiyo’s flesh shifted and morphed as they brushed past elves, merfolk, humans and veldalken. The flesh eventually settled on the skin of a boros guard that rushed to a different district. The people broke as alleyway after alleyway was taken and were replaced by the scents of mushroom wine, fungus, and smoke from a freshly lit pipe. The pipe was between the lips of a rugged, half blind, barely shaved human man who looked towards his watch then at Meiyo, arms wide open.

  
“And here I thought you died! I know it rained but we promised to meet yesterday.” His voice had the drawl of the southern districts with the same amount of gravel in it. His foot was tapping away at the ground. Meiyo’s eyes darted from jacket pocket, to pants pocket, to the man’s face.

  
“The job is done. Timing is what you asked for and I expected you would melt in the rain.”

  
“Ha-ha, I see your wit is as sharp as your weapons. Are all of them dead or are you here to say you need an extension?” His laughter was as dry as his pipe.

  
“They have been removed and I require my fee.” Meiyo held their hand out towards the man which caused the man to chuckle.

  
“You assassins are all the same. All work, no time for chit chat.” The man threw a hefty bag of coins across to them. As he continued to speak, they began to count out the coin absentmindedly.

“Now, I can say I’m a little different. I enjoy talking before I do business!” A blast of lightning came from one of the sleeves of the man’s jacket, blasting the ground in front of where Meiyo stood. They didn’t even look up from the bag.

“You are one hundred zinos short. I require payment in full for a finished job.” They responded nonchalantly. The man laughed at the fool before them.

“That’s all you’re getting! Outside of a coffin! -” The man was rudely interrupted by a dagger being thrown directly at his windpipe, making blood being taken in addition to air. Meiyo slowly followed their weapon as the sputtering man fell to the ground.

“One hundred zinos, that is all I request. Your life is not worth that much, let alone one zino. Choose your next words wisely.” Meiyo set a single boot upon the man’s chest as they ripped out the knife from the man’s throat, replacing it with their fingers and a small burst of magic. The man’s throat began to glow then blood vessels fused back, skin grew back over the cut and blood stopped flowing into their throat. The pain didn’t leave but the superficial damage did at least. For a reason unknown to Meiyo, the man spoke with an even more hoarse voice.

“I’ll kill you, you bastard!” The man emphasized his point by spitting blood onto their pant leg. A sound of disgust came directly from the leg and Meiyo’s face at the same time. The boot dug in deeper as they pulled a cloth out, dabbing at the spittle adorning their pants.

“Very well. I am fine with going down a few zinos to make an example. Are you familiar with chestnuts?” Meiyo asked as they pulled out a penny-sized metal sphere with thousands of needles coming from the core.

“The hell’s a…” Once again, the man was interrupted by a knife being brutally jabbed into his throat. He gasped for air once again but was only given blood.

“Chestnuts have a nice bit of food inside of an extremely spiky exterior. I wish you the best of luck.” The man swore he saw a smile fitting a crocodile creep from the edges of Meiyo’s mask. With one hand, Meiyo forced the new hole in the man’s throat open while the other lightly placed the metal sphere in the cavity. Their magic passed over the wound and it sealed just as quickly, much to the displeasure of the patient. They stood up and lightly bumped the side of the man’s throat. Blood came out from the man’s mouth with a cough as he curled up, clawing at the metallic tumor resting in his windpipe. Meiyo grabbed a small leather pouch from the man’s belt before leaving, skin shifting to colors and tone identical to the victim. A proper assassin makes sure to recycle used items when given the chance.

The sun was already halfway done with its cycle by the time Meiyo found their way out of the tunnels. The crowds had dispersed to restaurants or homes to sate their stomachs. Some merchants decided to cook meat or fresh bread then fanning the scents to passerby. Once again, a great reason to not have to shift a nose. Footsteps eventually slowed as they returned to their home. The key opened the lock and through the door they went. Much to their surprise, their guest had cleaned their plate, began using it as a makeshift pillow and allowed their grasp to loosen from the menacing, lightning coated axe. Her body shuddered every few minutes and the scent of sweat grew in intensity with each shudder. Meiyo looked over her for a moment before realizing the first of their two guesses seems to be more apt. They lifted her over their shoulder and brought her to their room. They tucked her under the sheets, without her even so much as making a single noise, and fluffed a pillow, adding it under her head. The sound of something heavy crashing into the wooden floor. Ah yes, the axe. Forgot about that.  
Meiyo returned to the scene of the crash and found that the axe had decided it would be better if it broke a few cubic feet of floor. Meiyo made the sound of a balloon deflating as they attempted, and failed, to move the axe.

The metal felt charged to the touch but not with any form of energy they were familiar with. Something more refined, like it was infused with the purest form of mana possible. No matter what substance filled in the gaps of the weapon, it was not planning to move anytime soon. It could be used as a conversation piece! For the extreme lack of people who visit. Or know of this place at all. Meiyo walked to the kitchen, temporarily defeated by their guest’s strange weapon.

A singular ball of rice will not sate anyone’s stomach. Once again, Meiyo set a pot of water to boil and prepared a multitude of vegetable trimming from the ice box. Knife work is second nature to an assassin after all. Memories from a plane far different from this one come into their mind. Times watching their father slave over hot pans, volcanic pots, and frostbitten snacks. Each movement they did was identical to those their father did, no matter its effect on the recipe. Meiyo suddenly stopped, both, cooking and reminiscing about their younger years, and foraged across the kitchen. Shuffling of pots, pans and silverware failed to awake the houseguest. They pulled out one of the plates, which seemed to function as a breeding farm for dust bunnies. Skin around their neck tore open, blow the accumulated dust off then reformed the flesh to normal.

A quiet afternoon was spent cooking two bowls worth of rice porridge. The scent of warm and satisfying rice wafted to the other side of the building, causing the house guest to yawn loud enough to mute out the sound of guildless children playing tag near the entrance. Meiyo methodically ambled to their bedroom with two hands worth of meals.

She was pacing around the room and searching under every pillow, blanket, and end table for something. With each lack of a finding, she tilted her head before shaking it and moving on to the next object. Meiyo cleared their throat, which made the girl jump like a stray cat and huddled against the closest corner of the room she found herself by. She stared daggers at Meiyo as they placed one of the plates on the foot of the bed and the other on the ground. They lightly pushed the dish towards the frightened guest before picking up the set aside dish.

“It’s not poison. The weapon you came with is in the other room. You slept, undisturbed, for several hours.” Meiyo spoke without much change in tone while the guest began devouring the porridge. They followed suit until she took a moment to breathe. She looked over at them before quickly looking away and checking their clothing for any spillage.

“I am Meiyo, the owner of this home. And you are?” They pointed at her with an open hand adorned with a spoon.  
“Thank you…” She mumbled under her breath.

  
“You have quite an interesting name, Thank you.” Meiyo chuckled. She responded by throwing a pillow at Meiyo which miraculously did not cause any porridge to land on the ground but did cause them to fall onto their back.

“Glad to see you are still able to move.”

“Samger Reichstellar.” She shoveled another spoonful of porridge into her mouth while slouching back into her corner

“Bless you.”

“I didn’t sneeze. That’s my name.”

“Cute.”

“I guess? No one has said that before.”

“And your family?” She shifted more into her corner and moved her spoon around in her empty bowl. Meiyo’s hand came up to their mask and adjusted it. At this point, it was clear she wasn’t a ghost. She ate, she could throw things and seemed to be able to change emotions. They also couldn’t seem to move the axe without her, yet most importantly, something felt different about them after cooking for her. Memories of brighter times before meeting those two masks and living in this home that could barely be called that. Their mind was in one place but their heart in another. The decision had to be made.

“Very well. You may live here until you get bored of it.”

“W-What?” Her spoon clattered to the ground. “You’re just find with letting me live here?”

“I have extra rooms. Besides, no walker leaves another walker alone.”

“What’s a walker?”

“Does it matter at the moment?”

“I guess not… but why are you cool with it? I crashed in here, literally, threw a pillow at you and-“ She grabbed the spoon off the ground. “Ruined your spoon!”

“It is not a problem, nor is it ruined.” They stepped towards her, picked up her spoon and dish then rubbed the top of her head. “You are enjoyable, and this house is far too big for one person.”

“But I’ve been a terrible person! I ruined your stuff, I probably broke your floor and I’m… I’m..” She started softly sobbing into her hands, words becoming muddled by her emotions.

“My housemate.” They grabbed a pillow from their bed and handed it to her. “I haven’t had anyone cry because of what I’ve said before.” A chuckle shifted their mask slightly down their face.

“And you won’t get mad at me?” She spoke between sniffles and clawing at the pillow she was offered.

“Anger is something I’m terrible at, so I will never be that.”


End file.
